16. Rahzlyn
Rahzlyn
Glimmering black jewels secured my breasts in place.
Sheer, flowing sleeves extended from my wrists to my shoulders, decorated with black beads and roses.
A matching sheer skirt draped over my legs, adorned with shimmering embellishments and beading.
A thinly jeweled waistband fitted across my hips, and a dainty black undergarment concealed my most private parts from the world when I lifted my legs.
Sparkling chains decorated my arms, legs and feet.
There were even jewels and black-painted roses placed throughout my curls.
My tanned skin shone from a dusting of gold.
I fastened a black mask across my face, keeping my charcoal-painted eyes visible, as the matron entered the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.
She appraised me slowly, much like she did when we first met. “Not bad.”
I nodded, knowing I appeared the part.
It wasn’t the scarcity of clothes that startled me. It was the darkness exuding from my glistening body. Even though I was to be displayed for enticement and seduction, I felt powerful in this color—in this setting.
The matron handed me a glass now filled to the brim with red wine. I took it without hesitation and downed its contents, hoping it would both give me courage and quell my nervousness.
After cloaking me in a black veil, she instructed me down a dark hall where two shirtless men awaited me. As part of the performance, they guided me into the main hall where the room parted. The music grew louder as the voices dimmed. No introduction was needed.
I glided through the crowd and was lifted by the men onto the circular platform bedecked in black-painted rose petals and candlelight. Their touches lingered along my bare skin, a part of the alluring act.
Never before had so many eyes laid upon me at once.
My heart roared in my ears. A familiar tune I’d practiced to began.
I let the sheer barrier slip from my body, rolling my hips in a way that the matron had chastised.
I didn’t care that I veered from the rigid routine.
The music beckoned me to heed its melody the only way I knew how—with abandon.
The matron’s shrill voice blared in my mind. I could see in the eyes of my onlookers that my movements were new and unfamiliar. Jaws dropped. Heads leaned forward, curious as to where this would go.
I swayed and dipped to the lyricless song: a story of a woman who longed for a man who wanted nothing more than the promise of her body. I twirled and bent so sharply, so desperately, reaching to prove him and everyone else wrong. There was power in dancing, power in owning my body.
In this moment, I had purpose.
The matron emerged from the crowd, ready to intervene. A man I did not recognize stopped her. The dark room spun intoxicatingly until nearly four more songs had gone by and the musicians finally stopped, at a loss for what to play next.
I panted, my chest rising and falling like an endless tide.
Music still played distantly from the other alcoves, but a hushed stillness greeted me before the crowd erupted in pleased cheers.
Before I could exalt in the moment, the two men whisked me off stage as the crowd grew rowdy and restless, hungry for more.
Back in the security of the dressing room, I caught my breath with a grin. My pride was extinguished when the matron stormed in shortly after.
She advanced on me and gripped my chin. “You smug little bitch.”
“I thought that went rather well, actually.”
“Went well? Are you—” She broke off with a laugh. “You only did half of the routine. The rest you made up on your own. You were sloppy. There was no poise, no elegance—”
Three knocks came from behind her. We both turned to find a man looming in the doorframe. He was broad-framed and fit despite the gray peppering his hair shaved close to his scalp.
He was the man who had stopped the matron from intervening. Uneven scar tissue puckered the left side of his face. Like the aftermath of burns from years ago. I dropped my gaze when he caught me staring.
“I’d like a private audience with you,” he declared.
“Oh, I don’t—” I started.
“Of course,” the matron cut me off briskly. When she faced me, there was no room for disagreement. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “If you don’t dance for him and do whatever else he asks, you will never work as a dancer here or anywhere else ever again.”
I gaped at her as my heart picked up speed for an entirely different reason. I found myself clinging to the matron’s hands before she ripped herself from me—leaving me alone with this man.
He strode closer. My stomach churned. Whatever else he asks.
He poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle the matron opened before the show. Then, surprisingly, he offered me one. I took it skeptically, studying every expression and movement he made.
“Dance,” he commanded.
I swallowed once before responding, “Any style in particular?”
He walked around me to settle into the pile of plush pillows beside the mirror. “The kind that will make me hard with want.” Lust coated his words, but his tone and face were filled with boredom.
I forced myself to breathe. After swallowing more wine, I maintained the guise of confidence and approached him. I’d never danced to seduce anyone before. My hips undulated as I replayed one of the songs from earlier in my mind.
“Closer,” he commanded, eyes flicking downward.
I hesitated before dropping to my knees. Stars, I was doing this.
“Closer,” he repeated with a crooked finger.
I crawled. He brought his legs together then, gesturing he wanted me to straddle him. My eyes closed for the briefest of seconds before I did.
“Now, dance.”
I writhed against him, fighting back the rising bile. I wanted nothing more than to throw up on this man who demanded such intimacy from me. But I would not let the matron ruin my chances of becoming a dancer if this was what it took.
I pictured the musicians and listened to the imaginary music in my head giving me comfort as the man rested his hands on my hips and roamed my bare, sweat-slicked back.
“If I asked you to do anything right now, would you?”
I still had morals that I was not willing to compromise. I could play to a man’s ego. “That depends,” I replied with a forced hint of breathlessness. “I wouldn’t do anything for just anyone. I’m a woman with standards.”
“And do I meet them?”
I placed my hands on his chest and whispered against his ear, “You exceed them.”
His hold on me tightened before he released me. I fell backwards, landing on my ass. He sauntered out of the room, leaving me to myself. Humiliation and shock kept me frozen on the ground.
Damn it. I’d screwed up. I tried thinking of how I could repair whatever damage had been done. But then the man returned just as quickly as he’d vanished. The matron was hot on his heels. She closed the door behind her. The lock clicked. My pulse quickened.
The man’s eyes pinned me in place. “She’ll do.”
“I’ll… what?”
“Congratulations.” The matron clapped slowly. “You weren’t a complete failure after all.”
I stood awkwardly to my feet, using the small table nearby for support as my head unraveled. “What’s going on?”
“Do you know who this is?” The matron gestured to her side. I studied him more clearly this time. He had a powerful frame and build, a thick neck, and large hands. I checked his eyes, and they seemed a normal shade of brown, and his light skin remained clear of any glyphs, so he wasn’t a Chosen.
“Um, no,” I said, swallowing down a dry throat. “Can’t say that I do.”
“We have a job for you.” She moved to lounge on the chaise beside the pillows. The man followed her. “A very important one. And now that you have passed tonight’s expectations,” she bit out reluctantly, “you are no longer an understudy.”
My relief was fleeting. “Wait, what about Yarah?”
“She’s been… displaced.”
Tension as thick as my hair filled the room. Suddenly it dawned on me that I might not fully understand what was being asked. A knot formed in my chest. The man angled his head in a predatory way.
I didn’t like where this was heading. “You said you have a job for me. Is this job something different than dancing?”
“Maybe she’s not as foolish as you make her out to be,” he said dryly.
The matron explained, “Once a month, for the past year, a very prestigious client has been paying for a private audience with our dancer. Tomorrow night happens to be his next appointment.”
“Appointment?” I murmured in a daze. “With who?”
“King Zephyr.”
“The king?” I croaked.
“She needs to work on that mouth of hers, pretty as it is,” the man said gruffly. The matron poured him a glass of wine. “Otherwise, this won’t work. He took a real liking to Yarah and she hardly spoke with him.”
The walls of the room grew closer and closer, my costume too tight as the panic of the situation set in. “This one likes her mouth just fine,” I snapped. “Will someone tell me what’s happening here?”
He took a sip of wine. “I am the leader of the Gemini syndicate rebellion against the Astrals.”
Dread coated my veins.
Pointing his glass at me, he said, “And tomorrow night, you are going to seduce the king and steal his talisman.”